


The One Where Stiles Gets Put in Timeout

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [60]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Crack, Derek Hale Can Have Nice Things, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale is Not Amused, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Isaac Lahey is a Little Shit, Like Stiles, M/M, Newspapers, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, The Hale Pack - Freeform, The Pack Ships It, Tumblr Prompt, the idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: Stiles has decreed that nobody insults Roscoe. But Derek won't let him enact vengeance on those who do.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [60]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 13
Kudos: 387





	The One Where Stiles Gets Put in Timeout

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Ice_Mage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Ice_Mage/gifts).



Stiles really should've known better. 

Of course, that could apply to a lot of things. Stiles should’ve known better than to adopt a bunch of werewolves, he should’ve known better than to order three serving of curly fries the other night, and he should’ve known better than to challenge Erica Reyes to a game of truth or dare two weeks ago (he could still taste baking powder).

In a lot of cases, he really should’ve just stopped to think. But Stiles didn’t do thinking. It took too much time.

So when he asked Isaac to be brutally honest about his opinion on Roscoe, he should’ve expected the curly-haired beta to be so mean. Except, before today, Stiles hadn’t thought it was possible for anyone to hate Roscoe.

“You car sucks,” Isaac said, a stupid blue scarf wrapped around his neck and a stupid smug smirk taking up residence on his face. “If I had to choose between riding my bike everywhere and letting you drive me, I would choose my bike in a heartbeat. Your jeep is a death trap. It wouldn’t even be fit for old parts.”

Stiles wasn’t sure how he’d gotten the rolled up newspaper in his hands. He wasn’t sure when he’d started smacking Isaac over the head with it either.

Only at one moment, he was trying to remind himself that murder was illegal and his father was the town Sheriff, and the next, he was determined to smack the life out of Isaac and his stupid scarf.

“You said to be honest, stop hitting me!”

“Not that honest!” Stiles said, chasing after the beta as he fled with his arms over his head. “Roscoe is my baby, you asshole, and I will defend her with my dying breath!”

Isaac ducked around the corner and Stiles chased after him— only to stumble back as he rammed into a very unimpressed Derek Hale. The man arched a brow and glanced from him, to Isaac, and then back, before sighing heavily.

“I hate to ask, but what’s going on here?”

“I hate your betas.”

“Stiles is being a psycho! I didn’t even do anything wrong!”

“You did everything wrong,” Stiles hissed, narrowing his eyes at the boy. “Roscoe is never driving your little werewolf ass anywhere ever again. I hope you enjoy biking to school.”

“I do have a bike for a reason.”

“Bastard!” Stiles said, trying to leap at him again. But Derek caught his arm and dragged him back, much to the triumphant look on Isaac’s stupid face. 

Stiles tried to wiggle loose but Derek’s grip was like iron and he didn’t let go until they were back out of the kitchen. Dragging him over the the couch, Derek dumped him down. 

“Stay,” the man said pointedly. Stiles leaped back to his feet instead and smacked the man over the nose with his newspaper.

“I’m not a dog, Sourwolf! You stay!”

Derek’s eyes flickered to red. For a moment, he just looked at Stiles and the newspaper he held, and then a terrifyingly feral look lit up in his eyes. “Stiles, can I see that newspaper for a moment?”

Stiles took a step back, heart leaping into his throat. He quickly pulled the newspaper behind his back. “What newspaper?”

“Stiles—”

“Don’t touch my newspaper!” Stiles smacked him across the head and then leaped back as Derek snarled. He scrambled over the couch, taking off back into the kitchen, and squeaked as he heard the sounds of the man chasing him. 

Isaac watched from the stairs, a smug expression on his face. Stiles flipped him the bird. 

For a moment, the loft was silent. Stiles panted nervously as he gazed around. He gripped his rolled up newspaper tightly and waited for the coming attack; but Derek was gone. It was like the werewolf had vanished into thin air.

“Uh,” Stiles said, now thoroughly confused. “Here, wolfy, wolfy, wolfy?”

Suddenly, there was movement from behind him and Stiles yelped as Derek caught him by the collar, lifting him a good two feet off the ground and wrestling the newspaper from his grasp. 

“No, Derek! Give it back!”

Derek smacked him three times over the head and then moved over to dump him back on the couch, leveling the newspaper with his face. Stiles glared at it.

“Stay.”

“Bastard!”

_“Stiles.”_

Stiles glared and crossed his arms, but didn’t move. Looking satisfied with himself, Derek tucked the newspaper under his arm and strolled back into the kitchen. A few moments later, the air filled with the mouthwatering smell of leftover take-out and Stiles grinned to himself, starting to stand.

But then Derek appeared in the doorway glared. “Stiles, couch. Now.”

“What? But I—”

“Couch.”

Stiles glared at him for a long moment. He debated flipping the man off and starting the entire chase all over again, but Derek’s eyebrows were terrifying and dammit, that shouldn’t have been such a turn on— wait. No.

Stiles shook his head and scowled, but plopped back down onto the couch. Derek smirked at him before vanishing again.

“Furry asshole,” Stiles said under his breath. Derek’s voice floated from the kitchen.

“I heard that!”

“Good!”

Stiles sat there for what felt like hours, though it was probably only a few minutes. At some point, the loft door slid open and Erica and Boyd came in. Stiles had his arms crossed and was glaring angrily at the opposite wall and Erica raised a brow, staring at him.

“What’s with you, Batman?”

“Derek put him in time out,” Isaac crooned from the stairs. Stiles scowled even more.

“He did not put me in time out, scarf boy.”

“Actually,” Derek said, coming out of the kitchen with a dish rag tossed over his shoulder and a plate of steaming leftovers in his hand. “I did. And you still have fifteen more minutes.”

Erica burst out into laughter and even Boyd smiled. Stiles slunk down further into the couch and muttered a series of curse word underneath his breath as Derek sank into the armchair a few feet away and continued to eat his dinner as if Stiles wasn’t even there.

He still had the newspaper on him though, Stiles noticed. He was already planning revenge.

It took a little longer.

By the time Derek gave him a wide smirk and told him he could get up now, Stiles was brimming with silent determination. He shot the man a wicked grin and shoved himself up, flouncing out of the room. 

He hoped that got under Derek’s skin. He hoped the man could tell he was planning all sorts of terrible things.

Later that night, Stiles crashed on the couch. He’d done that more often these days; with his dad working late shifts and Scott being busy with Allison. Stiles had spent the rest of the evening smiling brilliantly at Derek and acting like nothing had happened whenever they were in the same room together.

He started noticing Derek’s expression getting a little less certain. The man was watching him with narrowed eyes. His expression was nothing but distrustful.

Stiles reveled in it.

Late that night, when he could hear the faint snores of the rest of the pack, Stiles pushed himself up and grabbed the newspaper roll where Derek had left it. He rolled it a little tighter, smacking it lightly against his palm, and grinned at the sharp noise it made.

Then he moved toward Derek’s room as quietly as he could.

The Alpha werewolf always slept with his door open; as if he was always ready to come stumbling out for a problem or a fight. But the man was dead to the world as Stiles crept into his room, half buried underneath his covers.

Normally, Stiles would think the way Derek’s nose scrunched up in his sleep was adorable. He’d think the way he face got all soft and gooey when he was unconscious was the cutest thing ever. 

But tonight, he was out for revenge.

Stiles lifted his arm and then smacked the man across the nose with the newspaper as hard as he could.

Stiles really should have known better.

That could apply to a lot of things; like agreeing to babysit the pack whenever Derek was out, allowing the werewolves to copy his homework when Derek wasn’t looking, or letting Erica Reyes pick out his outfits on certain days.

In a lot of cases, he really should just stop to think. But Stiles didn’t like thinking. It took too much time.

Still, he should’ve thought this one through a lot more than he did.

Derek snapped to consciousness with a roar, eyes flashing red and fangs slotting down. Stiles yelped and pinwheeled back, his heart leaping into his throat. His feet caught in the t-shirt that Derek had left on the floor and before he could react, he was tumbling to the carpet. 

In seconds, Derek was pinning him down, claws at his neck and breaths hot on his face. Stiles threw his hands up with a terrified squawk, sure he was going to have his throat ripped out or something.

“Sourwolf, Sourwolf! Don’t savage the token human!”

There was the sound of running feet and the pack came spilling into the bedroom. Stiles caught Erica’s eyes and her gaze snapped from Stiles, to the newspaper, and then back. Then a grin cracked across her face and she dissolved into laughter.

“Oh my god, Stiles, you’re such an idiot.”

Slowly, the red faded from Derek’s eyes and his claws retracted back into his fingers. He pulled away and stared down at Stiles, an incredulous expression replacing the one of anger that had previously been on his face. 

Stiles was still trembling a little, terror and adrenaline making his heart race.

“Stiles,” Derek growled, his voice slightly warbled by his fangs. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Um,” Stiles said. “Revenge?”

Derek glanced beyond him at the newspaper lying a few feet away and his face tightened. He released Stiles of one hand and reached up, touching his nose. It was slightly red.

Erica laughed even harder. Derek glared at his betas.

“All of you get out.”

Stiles’s heart did a little flip and all three grumbled, but followed their Alpha’s order. Stiles could’ve sworn he caught Isaac smirking at him before the curly-haired beta left, but he couldn’t be sure.

He probably had, though.

“So, Sourwolf,” Stiles said nervously, wiggling a little. “Can we talk about this?”

Derek pulled him to his feet by the collar. “Revenge, Stiles? Really?”

“It sounded good in my head.”

“You know what sounds good in my head?”

“Letting me go, going back to bed, and then pretending like this never happened?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, smirking. “I don’t think so.”

That didn’t sound good. 

Stiles chuckled nervously and wondered that if he tried, he could make it out the door before Derek caught him. But then the man turned him toward the corner and patted him on the head, before letting go and trudging back to his bed.

“Twenty minutes, Stiles. Then you can leave again.”

Stiles blinked dumbly at the wall for a second. It took his brain a second to catch up and when it did, he spun back around. Derek was already back in bed, smirking at him with a look of smug triumph. 

Stiles opened his mouth to argue— and the man’s eyes flashed red.

His words died in his throat and Stiles stared for a moment, before turning back around. Crossing his arms, he glared at the wall. “This house is a fucking nightmare.”

Derek chuckled and rolled away.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt; “You said to be honest, stop hitting me!” and... it turned into a bit of a crack fic. I'm sorry. I have no control.
> 
> Of course, I love hearing what you guys think. If you want to see me do a prompt, feel free to come hang with me on Tumblr, or just come yell in my inbox and I'll always yell back!


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